His voice, so cold and hard, had the effect of exciting in her a certain indignation. She was recovering her nerve.
“I don’t care. I suppose you have no objection to my divorcing you. It means nothing to a man.”
“Will you allow me to ask why I should put myself to the smallest inconvenience on your account?”
“It can’t make any difference to you. It’s not much to ask you to behave like a gentleman.”
“I have much too great a regard for your welfare.”
She sat up now and dried her eyes.
“What do you mean?” she asked him.
“Townsend will marry you only if he is co-respondent and the case is so shameless that his wife is forced to divorce him.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she cried.
“You stupid fool.”
His tone was so contemptuous that she flushed with anger. And perhaps her anger was greater because she had never before heard him say to her any but sweet, flattering and delightful things. She had been accustomed to find him subservient to all her whims.
“If you want the truth you can have it. He’s only too anxious to marry me. Dorothy Townsend is perfectly willing to divorce him and we shall be married the moment we’re free.”
“Did he tell you that in so many words or is that the impression you have gained from his manner?”
